A Terrible Nightmare
by ariom
Summary: Bill is suffering a nightmare ... or is he?


A TERRIBLE NIGHTMARE

2231 words

I have no rights to any of the characters or series mentioned herein. No infringement of copyright is intended in any manner.

Indigestion, Bill Maxwell decided. Hadda be. It musta been those spicy things the counsellor had dished up to him last night. He normally never ate that sorta stuff, being strictly a meat and potatoes man from way back. In any case, it had to be the weirdest dream he had ever had. It had to be a dream, couldn't possibly have been anything else...could it? Urgh.

He had been sitting in what he figured to be an airport lounge or even a shopping mall. It looked like an airport lounge. Same sort of dull area, promenades and seats and so on, plus the most absolutely way out set of people - er - beings he had ever had the misfortune to set his eyes upon. Truly, no place for a loyal hardworking FBI agent!

At first he had thought they had to be some of these nuts who went to those convention things, where they paraded around in odd outfits. A couple of this lot were almost normal looking. Their leader was a well built black man, wearing a red and black uniform of some kind. He had what the counsellor would have described as a sexy voice had she been around to hear it. Sadly, she didn't appear to be part of Bill's dream. Having her and Ralph along - as long as the kid had remembered t' put on his funny suit - would have cheered him up a bit at that stage. Maybe later...he wasn't sure. The others of this group, following along and looking decidedly worried, included a couple of normal types, by which Bill meant human, but the others - cheesh! The most normal looking of the women sported what looked like a badly broken nose, with wrinkles on the bridge, and her companion, tall and sleek and dark haired, had a series of spots - yeah, like a leopard! - that extended down her face and disappeared under the close fitting outfit she wore. Both of the other men looked worried, and one was speaking in a posh British accent, slightly tinged with something more exotic. Bill caught merely a few words as they went past.

"...some really strange things have been happening..."

The other man didn't appear to be listening, but was muttering under his breath about fine tuning transporter beams. Bill scratched his head. He thought transporters were big military vehicles...what did they have to do with beams?? Accompanying them, walking beside the black man who appeared to be their leader, was a big ugly bruiser Bill would not have liked to encounter in any alley, dark or otherwise. He scowled at the FBI man as they went past, a menacing expression, and Bill carefully rearranged his gawping expression to something a little less improper. You never knew, with all this politically correct crap that was beginning to come into fashion. Time was, you could spot the baddies easily. They either spoke with east European accents or didn't quite look right. He sighed. Life had been a whole lot simpler back in the good old days.

Trailing along behind these, um, people, but not quite part of them, was a strange little man with a really weird shaped head, a nose that made the woman's look normal and enormous ears. He gave Bill a very toothy grin as they passed, showing a pointy collection that would have driven an orthodontist insane.

Bill had barely recovered from this little lot when another group strode past. At least most of these were normal, except for the guy with the pointed ears...Bill let his mouth drop open, then gulped and closed it. He was sure he'd seen the rest of them somewhere before, but couldn't quite recall where and when...

Following on their tail was another group, in some sort of uniform as the others had been, but they were slightly less, ah, heterogenous. One of them gave Bill an interested glance as they passed, and Bill blinked and gulped. This fellow had the oddest eyes he'd ever seen...they were sorta yellowish...and his skin was this funny metallic colour. The tall bald guy next to him bent his head to listen to something his companion had to say, then smiled and they continued on their way.

Bill was not prepared for this next group, but by now had regained some sort of equanimity. After all, they did reckon that you saw all sorts in airport waiting lounges...and boy oh boy were they right!!

A beautiful princess, yeah, well, he could take that all right, but her companions seemed to consist of a couple of real weirdoes - one walking very shaggy pile carpet, a tall lean fella dressed like a cross between a cowboy and a sci fi freak, and a character dressed wholly in black, who sounded terribly asthmatic, and who was carrying on a duel with a young rather cute looking boy - you could hardly call him a man, Bill decided, in spite of the fact that they were battling with funny looking swords with sparkly blades that sorta swished through the air. He shook his head to clear it. He was sure that somewhere hovering along behind this little lot he could see an old guy in funny robes, but he wasn't sure...

He rolled his eyes, decided he needed a strong cuppa coffee and started off in the direction from which all these weirdoes had come. Maybe they were all going to one of these strange sci fi gatherings - conventions, wasn't that what the geeks called them? Anything less conventional he could hardly imagine. This had been the strangest concoction of people and non people he had ever seen.

Bill really should have realised that so many oddly assorted characters being in the same place at the same time was just sooo improbable that it had to be straining the Law of Infinite Improbability so much that anything else was just superfluous. He was in such a hurry to find the coffee stand that he didn't see the tall curly headed guy coming in the opposite direction until they almost collided. The other muttered a polite, "Excuse me" and went on his way, trailing a multi coloured scarf behind him, and Bill, still suffering caffeine deprivation, continued hopefully on his way.

He didn't have any luck finding a coffee booth, but stopped in front of a shiny silver machine that he was sure would probably dispense the vital liquid. However, when he started fumbling for a slot to place his money in he was startled - shocked actually when it spoke in a mournful tone.

"Brain the size of a planet, and what does this booby think I am? A coffee dispensing machine! Oh, it's sooooo depressing!"

Bill stared, blinked, and decided discretion was indeed the better part of valour, and frankly bolted. Where was Ralph when he needed him?! Still in search of coffee, he found some small shiny conical gadgets. Surely one of them was more than a piece of modern art? At least they had spigots at the front for dispensing something, even if they were uptilted. Oh dear, one thing Daleks do not dispense is coffee! Bill fled again, followed by a trio of irate Daleks...not that they are ever anything other than irate...homicidal might be a better word. Fortunately for him, he decided to run up a flight of stairs, and left his pursuers staring in robotic frustration at the steps. They were, after all, very old Daleks.

When at last he was lucky enough to find a place to supply food and drink, he was not at all surprised to find it chock full of even more weird people. He must have stumbled into a sci fi convention, he decided, and resolved to avoid all such gatherings in the future. These people really ought to be out earning money and keeping the American economy booming, insteada dressing up in funny gear and going round scaring normal law abiding citizens.

He stumbled up to the bar, by this time realising he needed something stronger than coffee, and mumbled at the bartender,

"Gimme a double, on the rocks, and hurry, willya?"

"And what are you going to pay me with, huh?" The barman, to his surprise, turned out to be the sharp toothed fellow he had seen earlier on, and was now waggling his fingers almost threateningly at the FBI man. "This is a strictly cash establishment. No credit. Especially not to strangers."

Bill fished in his wallet and brought out several bills which he offered. The barman examined them with suspicion bordering on distaste and handed them back, shaking his head.

"Any coins? Pressed latininum? Precious gems?"

"Hey, I only want one drink," Bill protested, and from behind him he heard a female voice.

"I shall pay for his drink, Quark. Put it on my account."

The alien leered and showed all his teeth.

"We haven't seen you here for a long time, President Servalan."  
Her lip curled in disdain.

"No, and you are not going to see me again, I assure you. This place rates slightly lower in my estimation than Freedom City." She tilted her head consideringly. "No, I do believe considerably lower is a more accurate description."  
"There is a truce in place, remember. Commander Sisko will be most distressed if you attempt any hostile moves here."

"Believe me, Quark, nothing could be further from my mind." She smiled at him, but it was not a nice smile and beside her Bill wondered just precisely whether she was a rescuer or something worse. But at least she was going to pay for his drink... He glanced at her and although he retained his outward calm (or at least as close to calm as he had managed during the events of this crazy dream) he couldn't quite rid himself of the impression that he had fallen from the frying pan into the fire. She was attractive and imperious, but rather in the manner of a female leopard...He sighed and followed her to a table. Just as they were about to sit down one of the chairs suddenly became no longer a chair, but a blobby featured male who fixed Servalan with a cold stare and said flatly,

"I shall be happy to accompany you to your vessel, Madame President, as soon as you have finished your drink."

She tilted her head and smiled up at him, the expression totally false.

"Oh, Odo, and I was so looking forward to enjoying my stay here. Last time was such a pleasure...and I really must visit that little dressmaker again."

"Hhmph." He swung on his heel and left, but Bill did not fail to notice that as he did so he spoke to a uniformed man who took up a prominent position not six feet from their table. Clearly, he HAD gone from one bad position to another worse. He drank the contents of his glass rapidly, rose to his feet and scuttled off, casting a farewell over his shoulder as he did so.

"Bye, and thanks for the drink!"

The sooner he woke up out of this crazy dream, the better, he decided. As he hurried from the bar and along the promenade he passed a small group of humans - well, at least this little lot looked human - who were heading for Quark's bar. Their leader was wearing black and a fixed maniacal scowl, and of the two men behind him one could have won first prize in the handsome himbo stakes while the other looked even more worried than Bill himself felt. Actually he looked like a scared rabbit. They were followed by two women, one tall and blonde and smooth and the other lithe and black and dangerous, both wearing scowls, eye catching outfits - and weapons.

Bill had seen and heard enough. All he wanted now was to go home. Back where he knew which way was up and who were the enemy. He hurried along, but paused when he found himself being addressed by a calm voiced stranger, sporting the same sort of broken nose as one of the women he had first seen. Yes, and the same decorative ear rings, too.

"Come into the Temple of the Orbs, my friend, and your soul will be put at rest."

Bill blinked. Was this reassuring, or not? However, he shrugged and followed the man, a priest of some sort, he assumed. However, his hand went under his arm to check that at least he was still armed.

Within the temple, a glowing orb of light took his attention. He stared at it almost hypnotically, hearing faintly the sound of bells...which increased as the world spun around him...

And he woke up at home in bed, the telephone ringing shrilly in his ear. Half asleep, he fumbled for it and recoiled at the words from the other end.

"No! No," he cried out. "No, Ralph, I do not want to hear about the weird dream you just had. I had one a my own!" And he slammed the receiver down and went in search of real coffee in his own kitchen, back in his own apartment, in the good ol' US of A, back on terra firma. No more weird food for him, thank you very much!


End file.
